


Five Times the Stars were our Constant (and one time even they wavered)

by CheCheCheer



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Atsumu is a lil to motivated, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote this for a SCHOOL ASSIGHNEMENT, Osamu is just tired, Plague, Salem Witch Trials, Stars, Witches, but we love him, get this man an onigiri, yea thats a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27607202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheCheCheer/pseuds/CheCheCheer
Summary: Even huddled in his house, Osamu could hear the screaming. The thing about angry mobs was that they were anything but quiet. He could hear the chants and curses, all of the villagers calling for his head as they marched through the village, closer to his house on the outskirts of the town.In no time at all, they would descend upon his home. The thin walls would offer him no protection from the fury they brandished like a sword. His window of escape was closing but he couldn't leave.Atsumu wasn’t back yet.*  *  *Or in which the Miya Twins are forced to flee from accusations of witch craft, and the stars hold them together. Until they don't.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu
Comments: 19
Kudos: 40





	Five Times the Stars were our Constant (and one time even they wavered)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a school project and then changed it to make it Miya Twins oh god.  
> UPDATE I got a 100% :)
> 
> Shoutout to my lovely beta [KenmaisMood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenmaisMood/pseuds/KenmaisMood)

I  
Even huddled in his house, Osamu could hear the screaming. The thing about angry mobs was that they were anything but quiet. He could hear the chants and curses, all of the villagers calling for his head as they marched through the village, closer to his house on the outskirts of the town.

In no time at all, they would descend upon his home. The thin walls would offer him no protection from the fury they brandished like a sword. His window of escape was closing but he couldn't leave.

Atsumu wasn’t back yet.

Osamu cursed his brother under his breath. They knew the villagers were whispering behind their backs. They knew that accusing fingers were beginning to be pointed in their direction. They knew and yet Atsumu still wandered off, promising Osamu that he just needed to get _this one thing!_

Wrapped in his panic as he was, Osamu might have missed the back door banging open. But his nerves lit up as a firecracker when the sound of the intrusion met his ears, his instincts screaming at him _danger danger danger!_

“I’m back!” Atsumu’s voice echoed through their small cottage, and Osamu’s relief washed over him like a tidal wave. 

He grabbed his bag, and shot downstairs, itching to be gone. He had finished packing ages ago, waiting only on his brother to return from his fool's errand. “Did ya’ get what you needed?” Osamu demanded, voice harsh with his nerves.

Atsumu stood in the kitchen and cradled a thick book to his chest. Behind him the back door was still partially open, the harsh winter winds invading their small house. Atsumu himself looked like he belonged more with the grating weather than the kitchen. His cloak was buttoned up to his chin, the fur trim hiding his neck, and his hair was coated with so much snow Osamu could hardly see its bleach-blond color. 

Atsumu shrugged, handing Osamu the book. He took it, ready to yell at his brother for running off, but froze when he saw the cover. _Astronomy and it’s Uses: a comprehensive guide._

Of course Atsumu went back for it.

“In my defense,” Atsumu started, hefting his own bag onto his back. “Everyone living near the library had already joined the mob. There was no one around when I went to get it.”  
“It was still stupid.” Osamu hissed, but some part of him was grateful for the book. It was a comforting weight in his hands, a reminder of less perilous times. Sentimental value aside, Osamu knew they could use it to navigate to a new place. A place where they could start their life anew. 

The sound of the mob was growing closer, more distinct, and Osamu couldn't bite down his terror as he tried to calculate how close they were. Down the road? At the neighbor’s house? It was only a matter of minutes now.

“C’mon!” Osamu grabbed Atsumu’s arm, halfway dragging him out the back door. They crashed through the snow with all the desperation of a hunted animal. Their feet sunk into the snow, moving far too slow for Osamu’s liking. Their coats were both stark white, blending in with the snow, and Osamu hoped that made them harder to spot. Coupled with the darkness of the night, it was as good a camouflage as they could get. They couldn't afford to be caught. If they were caught then it was over.

_“Burn the witches!”_

_“It's their fault!”_

_“Death to the Sorcerers!”_

_“Murderers!”_

The screams of the villagers were clearer now that they were outside, but their legs carried them away as fast as they could. Through his terror, Osamu couldn’t help but think how stupid it was. 

Plague had been wrecking their small town. More than half of the villagers dead since the start of winter. And what did the survivors do but immediately turn to the supernatural for a cause. And who do they choose to accuse but the somewhat seclusive brothers living on the outskirts of town.

Osamu supposed it made some kind of sense. As far as witch candidates went, he had to admit him and Atsumu were pretty eligible. Both parents dead, keeping mostly to themselves, their most frequent outing being to the library to fuss over astrology books. But was that enough evidence to accuse them of starting the plague? Enough to gather a mob, to fetch torches and pitchforks? Enough to march to their house, so that they could be burned at the stake?

The only thing they would end up doing was spreading the disease. 

Osamu wouldn’t simply lie down and allow himself to be killed. So they ran. They would abandon the home that wanted only to see them burn.

The woods around their town were thick and dark. Osamu would be scared to go into them, especially in the middle of the night, but desperation did crazy things. Atsumu led the way, weaving in between the trees. He had always been the braver one. Osamu could only hope that the villagers didn't share his twin brother’s guts. By the time the villagers realized Osamu and Atsumu made their escape, they would already be long gone. 

The woods were a stranger to everyone in Salem. No one ventured out, no one tried to learn its ways. But Osamu prayed that the forest would open its arms, welcome them in. If it didn't, they would die. 

The astrology book was still tightly clutched in his arms, and Osamu drew on it for comfort. He had spent much of his childhood fascinated with the stars. Evenings pouring over a textbook, hours peering up at them with his brother, lifetimes spent picking out constellation after constellation. The stars were familiar to him, an old friend to him and Atsumu both. 

Up in the sky, through the gaps in the tree canopy, Osamu could see them. A twinkling sea, pinpricks of white amidst the vastness of the universe. As they charged into the unknown, the same old stars went with them.

* * *  
II

It had been days. Days of wandering around the woods, days of jumping at every little thing, days of feeling the hopelessness creep in. Osamu was losing hope, quicker as the days passed. With every passing minute that they wandered around the woods, he grew more and more certain that it would be their grave. They escaped Salem, but was it only to die by their own devices?

“The animals are all hibernating, or out of sight. We don’t know what plants are safe to eat.” Osamu muttered as they dragged themselves through the snow. He was spiraling into the pits of despair, without a rope to pull her out. Normally they would be resting now that the stars were out, taking turns keeping watch, but they couldn't afford to sit around anymore. They couldn't afford to spend any longer in these woods. “We’re lost. We’re alone. It's only a matter of if we starve to death or freeze now.”

“Will you shut it?”

Osamu blinked, finally looking up from the ground. Atsumu glared at him, the astrology book clutched in his hands. Osamu didn't know when he’d pulled it out of the bag.

“Stop being so depressing!” Atsumu smacked Osamu’s arm, but it didn't have any real force behind it. Osamu doubted either of them were strong enough for that. The woods had welcomed them, but it was unforgiving in its depths. It sapped their strength like a sponge. “We’re going to be fine.”

“How can you say that?” Osamu could feel his eyes burning, but no tears fell. He wondered if he had the energy to cry. “We're lost in the woods Atsumu! We’re going to die! It’s only a matter of time before we kneel over in the snow and then that's it!”

“Stop saying that!” Atsumu shoved the book into his hands, and Osamu startled, eye flicking down to the open page. _Navigation with the Stars._ “I’m not letting us die!”

“We don’t know how to navigate…” Osamu’s voice was soft, defeated, and it surprised himself. He knew he had given up, but this was the first time he heard it so clearly. He didn't sound like himself.

“I’m learning how. Stupid.” Atsumu pointed up to the sky, and Osamu lifted his gaze. The stars stared down at him. Shining, unbothered by their troubles. “Hope isn't lost. Look at the stars!”

“They look the same.” 

“Exactly. They're the same. The same stars we’ve always had.” Atsumu’s voice softened, dropping the viciously determined tone it carried, the tone that told Osamu Atsumu was still fighting. “We still have them.” His voice was revenant now. “As long as we’ve got the stars what's the worst that can happen?”

Osamu forced his eyes away from the stars to stare at his twin. Atsumu’s eyes were still on the sky, the starlight making him look strong. He looked the opposite of how Osamu felt- determined, hopeful, full of life. Atsumu hadn't given up.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Osamu asked. Atsumu shrugged, taking the book back and looking over its pages. 

“Sort of,” Atsumu admitted. “All I know is that there’s a town south of Salem. The book shows you how to orient yourself with the stars, so…” He trailed off, looking back up to the stars. Switching his gaze between the book and the sky, he eventually pointed to the direction they had prior been traveling. “That’s south.”

“You’ve been walking towards the town the whole time?” Osamu breathed. This whole time and he was too caught in despair to notice?

Atsumu merely shrugged. “Hopefully. If I was doing it right. But do you see what I’m saying?” Atsumu gestured back to the stars, the tiny pinpricks of light that would be their savior. “We have the stars, and that's all we need. We’re going to be okay.”

And this time, Osamu believed it. “We’re going to be okay.”

(When they found the town in the morning, Atsumu turned to him, his eyes twinkling like the stars. “I told you.” He had said, and Osamu could only laugh.)

* * *

III

Life got busy after that. The villagers took them in, taking pity on the boys who came stumbling out of the woods. The town of Swampscott was smaller than Salem, but the people were calmer. The village wasn't wrecked with the plague that destroyed Osamu’s life, and so the villagers went about their days merrily as they helped the new arrivals get adjusted.

They didn't ask questions about where they came from. Osamu was grateful.

Things were not much different from Salem. It was the same daily routine, the same crops, the same houses. Still, getting adjusted to their new life proved difficult. They were given a house, some basic furniture, but other than that the only things Osamu and Atsumu had to their name was what they brought with them when they fled for their life.

Osamu spent a lot of his time tending to the gardens. There was always something to do, something to plant, to harvest, and he had to earn his keep. Atsumu kept busy too, running around the village to deliver supplies, relay messages. He was always a hyperactive one. Osamu was glad he had something to keep him in check.

They didn't see each other much. There was always more to do. More work to be done before they could settle into the easy rhythm they had in Salem. But part of Osamu knew he was keeping busy to keep from overthinking. If he slowed his pace, would anxiety seize him in a vice grip?

Though they had found a life in Swampscott Osamu still worried the scariest part of his life wasn't over. Swampscott was a decent bit away from Salem, far enough Osamu hadn’t known of its existence. But Atsumu had, and if Atsumu knew of it how many people in Salem did as well? Would someone from their old home come to the city, see them there, tell the Swampscott villagers of witchcraft accusations they fled from? Would they be forced to flee again? Or would their luck run out, would they be caught and hanged, burned, crushed?

The garden kept his thoughts at bay. The tomatoes didn't give him time to think about his mortality.

When night fell Osamu found himself trudging back to the house he shared with his twin. The night didn't feel as crushing now that he had a town to hide in. Immediately after arriving in the village, Osamu found himself shying away from staying out at night. The memory of the trees drenched in darkness was too vivid, the echoes of his helplessness crawling across his skin. It wasn't a nice experience, being lost and starving in the woods. No matter the fact they eventually found safety.

But time eased his fears. The night seemed as familiar as it always did, and Osamu knew with time his fears about being accused of witchcraft once more would fade. Time was a better healer than any plague doctor he had ever met. 

So instead of going right inside, to retire until the next day, Osamu found himself climbing the roof. Scrambling up the scaffolding, using the chimney as a handhold, he hoisted himself up. The wind seemed colder when he was off the ground but Osamu paid it no mind. Carefully he sat down on the edge of the roof, letting his legs dangle over the edge. 

The stars were beautiful as they always were. Osamu couldn't help but admire them, marvel at how similar they looked to Salem's view.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

The voice came out of nowhere, shattering the silence but Osamu didn't so much as flinch. He knew that voice well, and he doubted it would ever spark anything more in him than fond exasperation.

“Finally tired yerself out?” He asked as Atsumu made himself comfortable next to Osamu. 

Atsumu grinned, but it lacked the vicious air he always carried, the sense that he would pour his everything into anything he did. Instead it was just soft, sated. “I’ve been running across town all day. Even I have to rest.”

“Ya seem to be awake on the roof to me.”

“Oh shut it.” 

Osamu shook his head, turning his attention to the stars once more. “Ya know, you were right.”

Atsumu hummed, a silent urge for him to go on. 

“About the stars being the same as they always were.” Osamu shrugged though he knew his brother couldn't see it, fixed as Atsumu’s eyes were on the stars. “They look the exact same as in Salem. The same as they looked in the woods too.”

“I think it's comforting.” Atsumu said. 

“The stars being the same?”

“Kind of.” Atsumu leaned back so he was laying down on the roof, his hands pillowed behind him and his legs dangling over the edge. “Our whole life got uprooted but the stars are the same as ever. And they always will be, no matter what happens. It's comforting to know they’ll always be there.”

“I’m glad too.” Osamu felt at peace. They may have been in an unfamiliar place, chased out from their home, but he was no stranger to stargazing in the middle of the night. He was no stranger to the stars that appeared every day without fail. “The stars are our constant, huh?”

“Yeah! Always and forever.”

It felt like they had millions of friends up in the endless sky. Atsumu was right. What was the worst that could happen when they had their stars?

* * *

IV

“It’s our fault ya know.” Atsumu’s voice was hollow and shaken, but Osamu didn't have it in himself to comfort him. Because he was right, no matter how much Osamu wished it wasn’t so.

“Do you think we could have…?”

“How else would it have gotten here?” Atsumu paused, taking a deep breath. He had been in a state of near panic all day, ever since they heard the news. “Maybe we didn't start that plague in Salem but we sure did it here.”

Osamu said nothing, and Atsumu granted him the silence. Their house was cold and quiet, the night’s darkness blanketing them, the gravity of what was happening sinking in. The plague that ravished Salem had appeared in Swampscott. Overnight dozens of people fell ill, their condition worsening by the minute. 

Swampscott was untouched by the plague. Not a trace of it in sight, but just weeks after they arrived the plague appeared. How else could it have gotten here, if not unknowingly transported by them in their desperate escape?

They were to blame for the Swampscott plague. And if this was their doing, was Salem as well?

“...what are we supposed to do?” Osamu whispered. It seemed wrong to speak louder than that, as if doing so would finally shatter the world that was already splintering apart. “It’s our fault Atsumu, what are we supposed to do?” 

“We help.” Osamu finally looked up from the floor, squinting at his twin's face through the dark. “We have to do everything we can.”

“What if it doesn't work?” Osamu asked. “I mean… if what's happening in Swampscott is our fault what if we are to blame for Salem too? Maybe we are witches. Maybe we're just doomed to bring misfortune.”

“It doesn't matter.”

“What do you mean it doesn't matter? It’s _our fault!_ ”

“Who cares?!” Atsumu shouted, and Osamu stopped short, breath caught in his throat. “It doesn't matter! It doesn't matter if we bring misfortune ‘cus we’re gonna fix it!”

Osamu watched Atsumu with wide eyes. The silence was tense and charged as they stared at each other. Atsumu sucked in a breath, exhaling for a long, long moment. Osamu felt like he was lost in the time. He was out of his depth. The world was falling apart again, and if he tried to run from his problems they would just follow. Burning the next life he tried to build into the ground. 

“We’re gonna be okay.” Atsumu didn't sound as certain as he usually did, but he didn't sound as helpless as before. “We’re gonna be okay. You and me. And,” He pointed out the window, and Osamu didn't have to look to know what he was pointing to. “The stars. We’re gonna be okay.”

“Ya seem awfully sure of that.”

“Osamu this happened before and we were okay! We escaped, and we found a new life.” Atsumu said. “And we still have the stars and we _always_ will. Remember what I said?”

“That they're the same?”

“No. That they’ll always be there.” Atsumu dropped his arm. “The plague can’t touch them, and if worse comes to worst they’ll still be shining down on us. What bad is going to happen if we have them?”

Osamu knew the answer Atsumu was looking for. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

Atsumu nodded, and though some part of Osamu wanted to wallow in despair, in self-pity, he couldn't deny that he was feeling reassured. “But now we have a chance to fix things and I’m going to take it. Even if you won’t. I’m not letting this be a repeat of Salem.”

Osamu had always found it admirable, how determined Atsumu was. How certain that he could change the fate of the world if only he tried hard enough. If it weren't for that, they probably would have died back in Salem. If his twin thought they could do it, then they could, couldn't they?

“I’m in.” 

Atsumu’s face lit up, and Osamu could see it clearly even through the darkness. So Osamu let himself smile. It proved true time and time again, and he had faith this wouldn’t be an exception. There was nothing they couldn't handle.

It was Osamu and Atsumu and the stars. It was all they needed.

* * *

V

Atsumu was working hard. Too hard. No matter how he tried to hide it, Osamu could tell. He could see the exhausted slope to his brother's shoulders, the lack of his usual energy and enthusiasm, the way he reacted to everything just a second later than he usually would. 

It was concerning, but even more so when Osamu noted his temperature rising. When he noticed how Atsumu would pause every so often, clutching his head like he was in pain. When Osamu saw how he trembled, wrecked with shivers, though he was burning up. Those were the exact symptoms that hinted at the plague. And Osamu was terrified.

"‘Tsumu.” 

Atsumu didn't so much as glance up. He kept his gaze fixed on the herbs he was dutifully measuring out, medicine meant to alleviate pain for the plague victims. 

“Atsumu!” Osamu said, louder this time.

Atsumu finally glanced up, and Osamu could see how sunken his eyes looked far too easily. “What do ya want?”

“Ya need to rest.”

Atsumu shook his head, turning back to his task. “I’m fine.”

“Yer not!” Osamu wouldn't let Atsumu brush him off any longer. “Yer getting sicker and sicker you have to _rest._ ” 

“I can’t rest ‘Samu!” Atsumu was yelling now, but he sounded more desperate than angry. “I have to help, this is my fault.”

“It’s _our_ fault, and ya don’t see me running myself into the ground!”

“This is different-”

“Shut up!” 

“Don’t tell me what to-”

“Ya have the plague!” Osamu shouted. His fear fueled his anger, forcing it to burn brighter like a bonfire. “You idiot! If you keep up like this yer going to die!”

“It’s my fault.” Atsumu retaliated, quieter this time but no less determined. “I have to help, I have to fix this.”

“Our fault. It’s _our_ fault, and we’ll fix it together but I can’t have ya dying on me.” Osamu paused for a moment, trying to calm the fear and anger trying to crawl up his throat. What would he do if Atsumu wouldn't rest? The plague already had a high mortality rate, and if Atsumu kept working himself to the ground it would only get worse. “You can’t make it better if yer dead.”

Atsumu refused to meet his eyes, still staring down at the medicine he was making. “I don’t want to sit ideally. I can’t sit around sick knowing this is my fault.”

How could Osamu convince him to finally rest? If this kept up, Atsumu would work himself to death, his guilt urging him to work harder, harder, harder. Atsumu had always given everything he did his 120%, and this was no exception. Osamu was never good at persuasion. The one with ideas, the one with drive, that had always been Atsumu. He had always been the motivator. So Osamu decided to take a page out of Atsumu’s book.

“If you die yer never going to see the stars again.” 

Atsumu froze for a second, and Osamu pushed on. “Are you really going to leave behind the stars just because ya can’t take care of yerself? You may feel guilty but you're no good to anyone if you're dead. And…” Osamu’s gaze drifted out the window. The moon was high in the darkened sky, but the stars shined even more brilliantly. “I don’t want to stargaze on my own.”

“...so yer being selfish?” Atsumu finally asked. 

“Yes! And you should too.” Osamu declared. “You should rest because you _want_ to, because ya want to be selfish and see the stars again. And if you won't do it for yerself then do it for me.”

“I can’t believe you're turning my motivational speeches against me.” Atsumu finally said, and Osamu knew he had won. “Ya should get your own.”

“Why should I when yers are so good?” Osamu grabbed his twin’s arm, hauling him to his feet. “You need to rest before this gets anymore out of hand.” Beneath his fingertips Atsumu’s skin was feverish. Osamu cursed himself for taking so long to convince Atsumu to rest.

Osamu guided him out the door after scooping up a bundle of herbs to force Atsumu to take. The nights were warmer now that they were leaving winter, and the walk to their house was pleasant. 

“Hey ya know.” Atsumu’s voice cut the silence, and Osamu looked over to see him gazing up at the sky, same as always. “If I die-”

“Don’t say things like that!” Osamu immediately cut him off. “Yer not going to die.”

“We all die.” Atsumu’s voice was flat, sounding almost lifeless. It was wrong. Atsumu didn't sound like that, Atsumu was as bright and lively as the stars he so admired. “And I have the plague so I’ll probably go soon too.”

“Yer not going to die.”

“Says who?”

“Me.” Osamu punched his shoulder, a quiet rebuttal. “I won't let you.” It felt like such a stark contrast to how things were not too long ago, lost in the woods. Back then it was Osamu who was succumbing to the certainty of death. It was Atsumu who forced him to fight to live. How odd it felt, to have their roles reversed. 

Atsumu smiled and shook his head. “Whatever Osamu. But if I die, I want to become a star.”

“A star?” Osamu made a note to lecture Atsumu later about staying positive. 

“Some people think the dead become stars. Or that they go to live with them.” Atsumu shrugged. “Either way sounds pretty nice to me. I’d like to be a star.”

“Yer going to have to settle with just looking at them,” Osamu said, shaking his head. “I’m not letting ya get away that easily.”

Atsumu laughed, and it sounded much more like himself. More lively, more energetic, happier. It was a small amount of progress, but Osamu would take it. 

“Alright ‘Samu.” He said, the smile in his voice prominent. “I’ll hold ya to it.”

* * *

+I

Atsumu had been getting better. He’d been resting, though Osamu had to watch him like a hawk to ensure he didn't try to sneak off. He’d been healing, and Osamu knew he would pull through.

In his stead, Osamu had re-doubled his efforts to help the sick. He didn't overwork himself like Atsumu had, but he did spend more time helping with whatever was needed. Most of the time he found himself mixing medicine. The very task Atsumu had gravitated to so often. 

He was there when he got the news. 

The message came in the form of one of the village’s children, but Osamu couldn't tell who. The second he heard the news his world went white, like nothing truly existed. The half mixed medicine was far from his mind as he leapt from the table, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get to the door. 

It was dark out, pitch black, but Osamu hardly noticed. Those three cursed words bounced around in his skull, drowning out any other thoughts he might have had.

_Atsumu is dead._

It couldn't be true. It couldn't be. Sure, Atsumu was deep in the throngs of plague, getting worse before he got better, but his condition _was_ improving. Bit by bit. It couldn't be true. 

Atsumu had been moved to the building where all of the sick were being cared for weeks ago, and that’s where Osamu was headed, dashing through the streets like a madman. It was easier to care for him there, easier to help him recover when there was more than just Osamu watching out for him. 

The torches were lit the closer Osamu got, the flames casting a ghostly glow to beat the shadows back. He could hardly see either way- stubborn tears were fogging up his eyes, a physical manifestation of his grief. A few villagers stood about the entrance of the building, quietly whispering among themselves, but they quieted when they saw Osamu. He imagined he must have made quite a sight, stuffed up with tears, out of breath, grey hair windblown from running.

“‘Tsumu?” He choked out, not able to think of more to say.

The villager closest to him looked down, unwilling to meet his eyes. “I’m so sorry dear…” She muttered, and Osamu felt like his world was shattering. 

Atsumu couldn't be dead, there was no way, Atsumu wasn't the type of person who would just _die._ Atsumu was the boy in the woods who refused to give up, the boy who trekked through a city hunting him for a book, the boy who ran around town on errands because he had too much energy. 

Osamu pushed his way through the crowd, sprinting for the door. He threw it open unceremoniously but stopped short the second he saw what was on the other side.  
There were more people in here, not just the sick, but also others crowding around a single bedside. Atsumu’s. They seemed to be coordinating to lift up a lump on the bed, wrapped in sheets. Osamu was terrified of what he would see if he came any closer. But at the same time, he needed to see it with his own eyes or he would never believe it. So despite himself Osamu tipped to the side, leaning up so he could see over the villager’s shoulders. 

Atsumu’s face was pale. Paler than it had even been when they were half-starved to death in the woods. Osamu imagined if he touched him, it would be like ice. Atsumu’s eyes were closed, and he looked… peaceful. Content, not wrecked with fever. But his limbs were lifeless as the villagers hoisted them up.

It was wrong. This wasn't his twin, this cold lifeless corpse. His brother was bright, and shining, and lively. His brother would ask him if he brought their cherished Astrology book if he saw him in the medical house, would tell him that his hair looked like a bird’s nest and that he should cut it. He wouldn't be so stagnant, so _empty._

It was wrong. Osamu felt numb like he was on autopilot as he recoiled, stumbling out of the house. Away from the empty husk that used to be his brother, but wasn’t anymore. He ignored the worried calls of the villagers, all too used to the feeling of losing a loved one. The night was sharp, sharper than it had ever been. The wind bit his skin, screamed in his ear, the last of the melting snow clung to his boots and soaked them through. 

But Osamu kept on, and everything felt numb. It was wrong. It was wrong, it was wrong this wasn't supposed to _happen._

Tears streamed down his face now with no reservation, and some part of him wondered if they would freeze on his skin. If Atsumu were here he’d laugh at that, say _‘I always knew you were cold-blooded!’_

He was running now, and the only thing he could think about was how Atsumu would do the same thing, crisscrossing around the place like it was a jungle gym, but Osamu had never had the coordination of his brother. 

When he tripped over the rock, hidden by the night, he’s not surprised. When he faceplants into the dirt he doesn't feel it. Osamu had wandered to the outskirts of the village now, and there was no one around to see him collapse. It was so dark that even if there was someone nearby they might not have seen. 

Osamu peeled his face from the ground, and the dirt stuck to the wet trails running down his face. Atsumu would have told him that it was gross, to go wipe it off. Osamu flipped himself onto his back, and it took all of whatever energy he had left. 

There was nothing left. He felt both painfully numb and drowning in grief. Atsumu was dead. Atsumu was dead. Atsumu was dead. Forever and ever, an irreversible fact. 

Though he felt exhausted down to his bones, his tears kept flowing, a faucet that wouldn’t turn off. They clouded his vision, blended the colors of the world together. Not like there was much there to begin with. The sky was pitch dark, no light to brighten it up. 

Osamu gasped at the realization. The stars were gone. He couldn't see them, not through the haze of hopelessness. They had left him too.

Atsumu had said he wanted to be a star when he died. Osamu hoped that he could get his wish, but how could he when there were no stars to join? The thought only rallied a fresh wave of grief. 

He was alone. Out in the cold, the snow, the dark. It used to be Osamu, and Atsumu, and the Stars. How lonely it was, to just be Osamu.


End file.
